. The story of American heroism; thrilling narratives of personal adventures during the great Civil war, as told by the medal winners and roll of honor men . hwounded soldiers for removal to the corps hospital at Potomac creek. I washustled unmercifully along without preparation and shipped prone on thefloor like a beef. Metaphorically, there was savage kicking. but of whatuse ? It was orders and it was wa r. JUS THE STORY OF Afterward the unremitting labor of surgeons and the considerate workof ambulance men was better understood. In that awful stress, with ninety-five hundred wounded men to
. The story of American heroism; thrilling narratives of personal adventures during the great Civil war, as told by the medal winners and roll of honor men . hwounded soldiers for removal to the corps hospital at Potomac creek. I washustled unmercifully along without preparation and shipped prone on thefloor like a beef. Metaphorically, there was savage kicking. but of whatuse ? It was orders and it was wa r. JUS THE STORY OF Afterward the unremitting labor of surgeons and the considerate workof ambulance men was better understood. In that awful stress, with ninety-five hundred wounded men to care for, one could claim but little. Except the surgeons weak stimulants, food had not been tasted foreighteen hours. Breathing was pain. The arm freshly sliced a foot inlength, and minus its bone half the distance, lay helpless, subject to theslightest motion. Such were the conditions for an ambulance night rideacross a country where every train made its own road. Torture began with the start; every motion was torture. Wheelsdropped into holes, and struck dead against stumps and stones. The heavy wagon careenedinto gullies, to belash. The hours were. through sloughs, and plungedjerked out by horses under therilled with undiluted agony, savewhen sense was dead. One morning, four days after,I lay with my uncertain eyesroaming over tent fixtures and An Angei. With a Bottle. narrow cots garnished withbandaged heads and protrud-ing stumps, wondering whatit all meant, and a visionappeared: a woman witha bottle in her hand. With effort I followed the words. Doctor, the sanitaryfolks have sent some porter; wont it be good for the captain ? Try it. byall means. When the matron (Mrs. McKay) afterward explained its effectto the surgeon, he said: I guess wed better raise him, after all. He mayhave five bottles to-day. Remembering the spoonful allowances, I tried tosmile with them at the absurdity. My cot neighbor, a Michigan officer minusa foot, communicated the missing links of the stor
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Keywords: ., bo, bookauthorwallacelew18271905, bookcentury1800, bookdecade1890
